


Golden Hour

by HenryMercury



Series: Hours [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beaches, F/F, Multi, Polyamory, Rain, Rarepair Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 17:12:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenryMercury/pseuds/HenryMercury
Summary: Pansy's evening at the beach with Cissy, Prissy, and a disposable camera.





	Golden Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Rarepair bingo fills for:  
> -Caught on the beach in the rain and loving it  
> -Pet names  
> -Praise kink
> 
> Aaaaaand that's bingo for me!

"You've got the artistic eye out of us three," Pansy says, holding the disposable camera out to Narcissa.

"But I don't know how to use this thing!"

"I don't either!" Pansy rolls her eyes. "Is this a generational thing? Because I definitely wasn't raised on Muggle technology, and it's ridiculous to assume I know anything about it just because other young people do."

Age is always a bit of a low blow where Narcissa's concerned, and Pansy feels a little guilty for bringing it up—but it's really just fact. Pansy is the same age as Narcissa's son. Youth isn't the same thing as beauty, but Pansy supposes that's easy for her to say when she's at the young end of their scale.

"It is not," Narcissa frowns. "I simply—and, as is evident, _mistakenly_ —assumed that since _you_ bought this contraption, you might have taken the time to—"

"I'll try it! Before the sun's gone all the way down," Capricia interrupts, stepping between them and seizing the little black and yellow camera. She holds it up to her eye in a variety of different positions until she finds the little window she's supposed to look through. "You click something to take the picture, don't you, instead of casting a spell? I've seen tourists doing it." She feels her way along the top until she finds the button.

"Well, there'll be a nice picture of your feet in there somewhere," Pansy says cheerfully to Narcissa.

Narcissa looks like she wants to hide her bare feet somehow, but there's nothing to stand behind on the wide white beach, and her black bikini and sarong certainly won't go far enough.

"Take one of our faces this time, Prissy," Pansy suggests, moving closer to Narcissa. Narcissa permits her to wind her arm around her waist. Pansy can tell she's still tense, though.

"Pose for me, daaaarlings," Capricia drawls, like they're shooting for some edgy, upmarket magazine. _Bitch Weekly_ , maybe. "Yes! Keep up that scowl, Cissy. That _smoulder_. And Pansy, turn to the left a little—that's it, that's perfect! The angle really makes the most of that _succulent_ arse."

She goes on and on, and Pansy tries to keep a straight face, tries to stand still for the picture, but eventually she can't hold it in any longer. She snorts a snort so loud and inelegantly she almost chokes on it, and then, caught off-guard by the sheer volume of the sound, cracks up laughing.

Narcissa follows, and Capricia snaps the pair of them with their eyes crinkled and heads lifted in laughter.

"You know, I think you did quite well with that, Prissy," says Narcissa.

Pansy agrees. "Yeah. You could shoot for a magazine, getting responses like that."

Capricia smiles like the proverbial kneazle post- cream consumption, and makes a show of fanning herself lightly.

"Mmmmmmm," she purrs in delight. A little too much delight. "Tell me more about how I'm such a talented photographer. Flattery will get you _everywhere_."

"No more compliments for Prissy until we're in private," Pansy declares. "Or we'll end up being arrested for public indecency."

"Oh, like there's anyone else here!" Capricia dismisses the concern.

This much is true, Pansy has to admit. The evening is still warm, but the golden hour they came here to enjoy has gone overcast and the clouds are darkening quickly, promising a storm. The wind is picking up, and swimming is much less appealing in the crashing surf. The few people who had been around earlier have all disappeared.

The first sprinkles of rain are too light and sporadic to be of any concern.

"Perhaps we should leave as well," Narcissa proposes, evidently feeling the tiny droplets too. "The best of the light is gone, after all."

"Oh, Cissy, don't spoil the fun. There's light enough for a few more pictures."

Capricia looks so hopeful that Pansy just can't deny her this.

They wander towards the rocks at the end of the beach, listening to the faint rumbles of thunder in the distance. The rocks are cool against Pansy's soles, and she almost slips into a rock pool when out of the corner of her eye she sees Capricia pointing the camera in her direction.

"Be candid," Capricia scolds her, like she's nearly snapped her ankle on purpose.

A couple of pictures later Capricia declares that the light is no longer adequate, and they start tripping back through the sand towards more solid ground.

They're about halfway when the sky _cracks_.

The bright flash of lightning is followed by the thunderclap with barely a pause, and instead of increasing in a steady, logical way the rain goes from light to torrential.

Capricia lets out a squeal and seems to hop around in the sand. At first Pansy worries she's stepped on something sharp, but when Capricia starts to spin around, face upturned and grinning, Pansy realises she's just excited. Pansy hadn't thought to _enjoy_ the sudden downpour, and from the way Narcissa's grimacing and retying her sarong as an oddly-sized headscarf instead, neither had she.

"Not really much use in trying to stay dry," Pansy shrugs. It's been... well, forever since she's been caught in the rain. The last time it happened she was a child wandering around her family's grounds.

When Capricia is next within reach, Pansy takes her by the arm and joins in. It's overwhelming, the cool rain running all over her and the coarse dry sand beneath her feet growing stickier, and Capricia's warmth beside her. The dusk's declining light, the beginning of the moon's nightly performance lending the clouds a glow, and the lightning electrifying the entire scene at irregular intervals. Pansy lets out a shriek, just so she doesn't have to take all the wild sensation in and then somehow hold it there.

"No one would notice if I used my wand," Narcissa mutters—the kind of deliberate, shouted 'mutter' that's designed to reach their ears.

Pansy knows how this will go, though: she'll roll her eyes for a while, and once she's worked out her irritation she'll compose herself and do what needs to be done.

And sure enough, when Pansy offers her hand, Narcissa takes it.


End file.
